The Needs of the One
by Dreamwhisper
Summary: Peter has to make a decision.


Peter Pettigrew was afraid.

He knew he wasn't alone in his fear. The wizarding world fairly wallowed in it, with all the disappearances, murders, hysterical accusations of friends and neighbors being Death Eaters by friends and neighbors. The Ministry of Magic hauled away the accused. The accusers were either applauded or accused themselves. If they were lucky. Otherwise, they wound up dead.

Peter had always known something like this would happen. Well, not like _this_, exactly – who could have predicted the rise of Lord Voldemort, after the fall of Grindelwald? But foreseen disaster, tragedy, mayhem? Oh, yes.

"Lack of imagination, Pete – that's your problem right there," Sirius had said years ago at Hogwarts, after a particularly grueling session ofAnimagus practice. That wasn't quite true, though Peter hadn't bothered to correct Sirius then. He had an excellent imagination. It built nightmares and fiascos out of stone and mortar, and accomplishment from shifting sand. No matter how large or small, success took Peter aback. He trusted it like an acrophobic trusted a rickety ladder: always doubting it would hold up.

That had changed somewhat, when he met Sirius and Remus and James. His astonishment at the three of them – clever, popular, confident – wanting to associate with _him_ left him blinking at them dumbly. It took what seemed a lifetime for him to stammer out he'd be a fourth for Quidditch that day. Afterwards James invited him to raid the kitchen with them.

That had had been the start of the Marauders.

Peter couldn't believe his luck. Friends, real friends, not just other students who wanted to crib his notes and browbeat him into running errands. He'd gone around for days feeling like nothing could touch him. Nothing was impossible. Life was absolutely wonderful.

The feeling didn't last, of course. James was a show-off and liked to brag overmuch. Sirius flavored his friendship with a touch of contempt. Remus didn't stand up to James and Sirius, even when made prefect.

Peter's role had been easy. He was the audience, applauding and going along with whatever James and Sirius came up with. Other Gryffindors joked about whether Sirius or James was holding Peter's leash this week. Peter shrugged them off. He had the Marauders; he didn't care what everyone else thought. In the end, all that didn't matter. They were his friends.

Over the years, beginning with their secret studies to become Animagi. Mastering such difficult magic, even with James' and Sirius' help, had given Peter a certain amount of confidence. By the last year of Hogwarts, he no longer applauded James' every little move, and responded to Sirius' verbal jabs with pokes of his own now and then.

"Good for you, Peter," Lily said that first time, laughing at Sirius' stunned expression. "He deserved it!" She had been hanging around them since sixth year – hanging around James, to be exact, but Peter didn't mind. He liked Lily.

They drifted apart when school ended.. Not all at once. – even with James and Lily's marriage, Sirius dashing from scrape to scrape, Peter's job stocking the shelves at Flourish and Blotts, and Remus simply trying to live, they had kept in touch at first. Contact with Remus and Sirius dwindled to quick letters or postcards, but invitations to dinner at the Potters arrived by owl twice a month or so. James seemed honestly interested in what Peter was doing, and after dinner they'd all sit back with butterbeers and rehash old times or discuss the news from the _Daily Prophet_. Lily would offer to fix him up with friends of hers. During her pregnancy, she had asked him about wizarding baby books.

And now he was sitting outside Florean Fortescue's ice cream shop, trying to make up his mind to kill her.

Peter gulped tea, wishing he were braver, wishing he were weaker, wishing he was anyone else at this moment, anyone else at all.

_I should have held firm. "Sirius, I can't. James and Lily asked you for a reason and that's the end of it." That's what I should have said._ It should have been easy. Gryffindors were brave, weren't they?

Refusing Sirius was anything but easy. _"Buck up, Peter. No one will ever know. It'll only be until Voldemort's taken down for good." _Though Peter turned him down and made excuse after excuse, in the end Sirius won. If Remus had been there…

Peter made a noise that was half-laughter, half-sob. He'd needed Sirius and James to become an Animagus. He'd needed the three of them to feel brave, to feel loyal, to feel worthy at Hogwarts. Apparently he needed them still.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't. He'd run back to Sirius and tell him everything, beg him to forgive him and help him. With Remus and Sirius, the three of them could fight —

"Is something wrong?"

Peter looked up. A blond-haired, blue-eyed, apple-cheeked young woman in a pigtails and a bright pink robe smiled at him. He remembered her; he'd asked her out in seventh year a couple times. She had been a Hufflepuff then.

Now she was a Death Eater.

"No, Beth, no," Peter stammered. He could jump up and scream out the knowledge of her secret.. He'd probably be believed. There were enough wizards and witches around to capture her. Unless she Apparated, and Voldemort would know. "I'm – I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" She leaned on the table, studying him. "You look ill. Do you need help?"

. "I'm sure." Peter smiled weakly. "Thank you for asking."

"Oh, well, then, if you're sure…." Beth laughed. "Take care, Peter. It was good to see you again!" She walked off, turning around once to wave, and disappeared into the crowd.

Peter huddled in his chair, shaking.

Somehow Voldemort knew he had visited Sirius and sent Beth as a warning, just as Voldemort had somehow found him weeks earlier. "Tell me where your dear friend Prongs is, Wormtail," the Dark Lord had asked in his high, cold voice between bouts of the Cruciatus. "You don't know? Then I suggest you find out."

And today Sirius had gone and asked Peter to take his place as James and Lily's Secret-Keeper.

Peter picked up his tea and drank the dregs, staring out at Diagon Alley. Shoppers went about their business. No one had noticed his brief exchange with Beth. No one paid attention to him. No one looked at him. Fortescue hadn't even come out to offer a second cup.

He was alone.

Anger and despair roiled inside him. No one to borrow bravery or loyalty from anymore. If only he were older and stronger. If only Sirius had accepted his initial refusal or even been a little bit suspicious about it. If only it had been anyone else in that damned prophecy. If only his friends were still his friends. If, if, if.

_The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few_. Lily had said that, during an argument between her and Snape in Binns' History of Magic about ethics. What did the life of one child matter, compared to the lives that would be spared when Lord Voldemort no longer felt threatened and his power secured? (_Three lives,_ a small voice in the back of his mind corrected.) The fear and suspicion would end. No more disappearances, no more murders. Remus would live. Sirius would live. His mother would live. Countless other witches and wizards would live.

He would live.

"The needs of the many," Peter whispered. "The needs of the many…."

He rose, imagining he could feel his master tugging on his leash.


End file.
